The High Priestess

Tony Chee, usually known as a movie director with little chances for an Oscar while much fun at the set, could also direct his own moves quite well. This way, he made sure that he could tell his actors what to do, and the same skill had provided the base on which he and Harry had come together, first at a party, then at the set, and finally in aikido training halls.

Right now, however, Harry played the director and Tony the actor.

The moves Tony had to carry out were pretty simple, which was good because Harry didn't use a megaphone. Instead, he used a snake. It complicated matters a bit that Tony was awfully bad in snake language. Normally that felt perfectly okay, only today he could have done with a larger vocabulary.

Larger than zero, that was.

But they got along, he and Nagini. Sure, the first seconds had been a bit weird, with the snake around Tony's body, her head over his shoulder, close to his ear - after all, a deadly animal so tightly at your precious skin, after you'd witnessed how someone was bitten by her and how he'd looked a minute later ...

Not that Tony expected Nagini to bite, not at all, really - it was just the knowledge. And he had never expected the snake being that heavy - it explained the origin of Harry's muscular torso.

A hissing.

Tony stopped and retreated a few steps, tracing back exactly the way he'd advanced seconds before. Then he turned ninety degrees and stepped again forward, slowly, every second aware that the next hissing might stop him once more.

Didn't. Having passed twenty steps, Tony turned ninety degrees to the previous direction and moved forward again.

That Goblin ... Tony had little experience with Goblins; he knew them from Gringotts, yes, but bankers were bankers were bankers, weren't they? While Urion - he hadn't liked the idea a bit, that it should be Tony who was going to run along the borderlines of a twenty-step grid through the castle yard. "This is my task, Ambassador," Urion had said.

Tony had heard that term before, once when he and Harry had visited Gringotts together. Afterwards, all he learned from Harry could be summarized as, Ambassador was a title. Well, he'd never guessed. What the title meant was still a bit unclear to him, and most people would agree that this counted as the interesting part. You couldn't ask the Goblins, you couldn't ask Harry, and you couldn't ask his wife. In contrast to the former two, Cho would tell him, only that this would be like spying out on his friend. Tony would have to wait and see.

And today he had seen that this title seemed good enough to stop a Goblin colonel. "Your task is to take risks, Urion," Harry had said, "while Tony's here because he doesn't take a risk. We know that this power doesn't affect Muggles." Then Harry had grinned. "Who'd believe me that Urion the Uncompromising takes an avoidable risk?"

Goblins could well look upset - Tony had learned that also some minutes ago.

A hissing.

"Got you, Nagini." Stop - retreat - turn - walk. When Tony felt sure the next hissing would come, it didn't; the path was free. He reached the building without any further comment from the snake, stopped, turned, and looked around.

There seemed no question left, but just for good measure ... Tony approached the spot from the other side, and right when he thought it would, the hissing reached his ear.

A small arc to the side, another approach - yes, sir, this cleared the last doubt. Tony walked to the portal where the others were waiting and turned to Harry.

"You've seen it, haven't you?"

Harry nodded. "So it's the well ... something down there."

Tony looked at Bill. "Have you been down the shaft?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

"There's a tunnel - you can climb off the stool and walk the tunnel, to be hauled up later, or you can keep seated, just having a look at it."

"What did you do?"

"I went down first. Then, until Konstantin arrived, I checked into the tunnel. When he was down, I took his stool upward and he went into the tunnel ... It's nothing spectacular, except that it's so old and that people built it for deadly serious reasons, working hard ... There's no mysterious cave, or box, or whatever."

Harry asked, "What did you feel down there?"

"Of course it's a bit creepy, floating down toward the water. But otherwise - I was shivering, because it's cool down there, and after the hot sun - "

"That's the only reason?"

Bill looked at Harry. "Good question ... I can't say there was a sting or a shockwave or anything of that kind; touching this little angel here's a stronger thrill often enough." Bill smiled at Sandra.

---

Tony tried to imagine how it looked hundred and fifty feet down a well shaft, and came to the conclusion that it didn't look at all, unless you had a light. But Harry had a light - his wand, or maybe Bill's wand, which right now came as useful as an umbrella. Wrong - an umbrella protected also against the sun.

While Bill's wand didn't. "Harry," asked Tony, "do you want me to go down there?"

"Evenutally, yes. But not now. We don't know how this hauling device works, and what's more, I don't want any wizard or Goblin close to the centre of the power field."

"Then what else?"

Harry looked at the cab. "Bill, can you give the driver his money and send him off? That guy makes me nervous."

Bill went outside the castle yard to deliver the counting half of the payment. Watching him idly, noticing how Bill took care not to touch the car, after it had been exposed to the sun all the time, Tony had time to think about Harry's nerves, well-known for their delicate composure. So his friend was planning something unlawful, or at least didn't exclude it from his options, and made sure there was no eye-witness of the local kind.

The cab drove off in a cloud of dust which was more impressive than the sound from the engine. Bill's expectant grin at coming back confirmed that he shared Tony's conclusion.

"Okay, Harry - what now?"

"Hmm ... Does anyone know something we still can do, before coming back with better ideas and some test tools?"

"Test tools? What test tools?"

"No idea, but then I'm no scientist." Harry looked over the castle yard, examining the well, the building, the large tower at the end. "We have to make sure no other wizard's going to the well, or down the shaft."

Tony tried to imagine how the Israeli authorities might react to such a demand. He didn't expect them to like the idea much. Into his thoughts, Urion said, "I can call guards, Ambassador. They would detect the wizards and warn them off."

Tony could already see the headlines in the newspapers. Shooting between Israeli Army and Goblins near Tiberias.

Obviously, Harry could see them too. "Maybe we should try to behave like good citizens first. If it doesn't work - "

"Who do you want to call? Police?" Bill's respect for the idea seemed quite low. Or maybe for the police.

"Still simpler - we met some authorities, didn't we?"

"What? Those soldiers?" Bill looked incredulous. "You must be out of your mind, Harry. That sergeant will be delighted, seeing us again. Her cooperation will break new records, no doubt about that."

"Let's see." Harry grinned wryly. "Shall nobody say we didn't try, and besides, this isn't our territory. They would come anyway, so if it's us who called them, maybe they can overcome their prejudices. But first, let's call our wives and tell them that the scary part's over."

Bill and Harry went some steps aside and took out their phonies to calm down two women, one in France and one in California. Tony felt glad for being free of this burden. He looked at Urion.

"You're the military expert here. What do you think of Harry's plan?"

"He's calling for trouble."

Tony added this to his small collection of knowledge about Harry's relationship with Goblins. So an Ambassador could be criticized by a Goblin colonel - maybe not by the arbitrary colonel, because Urion didn't look arbitrary -

"But of course he's right - there's no way of avoiding trouble, and if you have to dance anyway, best you can do is making the first step by yourself."

* * *

Harry couldn't help thinking that he better not apparated right into the linkport hall. Appearing just in front of the army guard, this idea didn't feel as if it would speed up things ... except some bullets, maybe.

So he apparated to the outside of the building and walked in, approaching them, appearing to them as a single figure: without a snake because he'd left Nagini with Tony, and without a little girl because he'd left Sandy with Bill. Close to Bill - for a dedicated music fan, this could hardly be wrong. So his daughter had agreed readily.

The soldiers watched him stepping closer. Harry felt the moment when they remembered him - two steps into the hall, which seemed pretty fast, but then they were practised in recognizing faces, and this wasn't exactly Tokyo Linkport. He stopped in front of them.

"Sergeant?"

"Yes?" Her face was expressionless.

"We need help. We found something dangerous - something that should be locked against public traffic. We want to inform the authorities, and since we're not familiar with the responsibilities, I thought it was simplest coming to you."

Referring to her competence had been okay; she looked a wee bit friendlier.

"Dangerous? What is it?"

"We don't know yet. We could locate it, that's all so far. It's in the castle yard - I thought you might come and have a look."

The young woman - twenty-two if she was a day - looked uncomprehending. "But what is it? Something you suspect a bomb inside, or what?"

"No, nothing like that. It's something contagious, something that raises a fever which can end fatally. There's one victim so far, and I'm concerned about the tourists there."

Apparently, his description brought their previous conversation back into her memory, because suddenly the friendliness was washed off.

"How did you come into the castle yard?"

"Through the door, what else?" Harry tried to look impatient, which he was, and like someone answering stupid questions, which he wasn't. "Wouldn't it be simpler to discuss this right at the place?"

The sergeant with the prominent female attributes stared at him suspiciously. "The other people you came with, where are they?"

"Still at the castle, and waiting for me to come with someone who has the authority to lock the place. Now, am I right here or - "

Suddenly the muzzle of this sub-machine gun was pointing at his chest. Until a moment before, it had looked more like a toy than a serious weapon, something Muggle children would use and pretend it was a Martian beam laser, lacking only the silvery polish you'd expect from the Martians. Right now, though, it looked like a tool for killing people.

Harry stared into the woman's face. "What's this?"

"Don't move. Your description's perfectly suited to lure an army patrol into a trap" - the woman glared at him - "and for a damn scientist you're just too calm in front of a gun. Why aren't you shitting your pants?"

"Because it smells!" It was out before Harry could stop himself.

She gave him a brief grin.

"Listen, sergeant, I'm an English wizard, except I live in California. I'm used to be threatened by weapons, although most often they weren't guns. But that's pretty irrelevant, because all I want is someone official up there at the castle. I'll sit in your car, just to show you it's not a trap - "

"You bet - mister, this is the land of suicide attacks!"

Well, there she had a point. "What can I do to - " Harry stopped and started again. "Sergeant, do you remember the little girl? That's my daughter, she's waiting for me - is this enough to tell you I'm not going to kill us all?"

---

Seeing her still hesitate, Harry was about to apparate outside and come in again, just to show his goodwill, when the woman came to a decision - maybe from his voice, or his expression of genuine anger.

"Okay, mister - wait a second."

She rattled something to her comrade, who looked like a seventh-year in Harry's eyes, probably was, and obviously lower in rank. The young man walked outside - to fetch a jeep, as Harry learned a moment later. Then the woman spoke into her walkie-talkie, for Harry the most outdated communication device he could imagine. Although, this bulky piece fit exactly his opinion of armies: why simple if it could be primitive, expensive, and error-prone?

"Let's go, mister."

Sitting in the passenger seat, with the young man driving and the sergeant with her gun behind him, Harry explained how his brother had returned from a Middle East trip to catch a fever, to survive just so while his fellow who had joined him on that trip had died. Telling the story wasn't made simpler by the young soldier's driving style, but then maybe it was the jeep to blame, bearing no resemblance whatsoever with the shiny off-road vehicles which crammed the streets in Santa Monica twice each day.

Esp - hep - pecially not - hick - with their comfort on roads designed for pilgrims and camels.

They reached the castle. A command from the sergeant stopped the car still in some distance from the small portal. Another command glued the soldier to the car while the sergeant followed Harry to the portal. She inspected the door.

"Was it open when you came?"

"When I pushed it, it was open." Harry's answer sounded casual, well trained from earlier experiences in similar situations. And it was no lie.

She didn't look as if she believed him, but it wasn't important enough, and an instant later the sergeant noticed the other figures who had been sitting at the wall, pressed into the scarce shadow, and now were coming up. She looked at Harry.

"All right - where's the dangerous thing?"

"There - the well, probably down the shaft. After we sensed it, we checked just enough to be sure it's the well, then - " Harry stopped because the woman was no longer listening.

She looked around, apparently missing scientific equipment, and therefore highly suspicious.

"What exactly did you do here? How do you know there's something contagious in the well?"

This was the moment Harry had been dreading, but he saw no choice.

"We went the same route Bill had taken on his trip. When we came close to the well, Sandy sensed it first, and we jumped back. Then we - "

"Sandy? Who's Sandy?"

Harry took his daughter from Bill's arm. "That's Sandy, my daughter - Sandra Catherine. She has quite some magical power."

The young woman stared at him, then at the girl, an expression in her face as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or start shooting. Sandra, in return, stared at the woman to figure out if this unpleasant aura might be something that was directed against her father, in which case she would take measures.

Harry said quickly, "It's okay, Sandy. We have to tell this lady what happened."

"Bill. Fever." And a fierce glare.

"Indeed? ... Hrmph - and then?"

"Then we sent Tony - he's the only Muggle in our group, and for them it's not contagious, so he wasn't at risk when getting closer. He scanned around until we knew for sure that it was - "

"What, with your daughter?"

The sergeant seemed not ready yet to believe the story, or she wasn't going to believe that Harry had used a two-year-old in place of a magical Geiger counter.

"Er - no. He did it with Nagini - er, that's the snake. She's not as good as Sandy, but almost - and we think she hasn't caught the infection."

"No, of course not. How could she - she?" The sergeant seemed briefly close to a hysteric giggle, but steadied again. "That's the craziest story I ever heard - okay, I'm ready to accept this isn't a stunt to kill an army patrol, but otherwise ..."

"Sergeant" - Harry had no trouble making his voice sound pleadingly - "I know how it sounds, I have trouble enough with other wizards when it's about Sandy and Nagini. But our problem is, if a wizard comes too close to that something down there, he loses his magical power, and most likely the fever kills him. And that's not a joke."

---

The woman glanced at Bill. "You mean he's a Muggle now?"

"Not really; Nagini says he doesn't feel like a Muggle - "

"Nagini says, huh?" The sergeant's lips were twisting. "Would you please ask her how I feel?"

Harry saw his chance and signaled to Tony, who stepped closer with the snake.

"Nagini, this woman wants to know how she feels for you. Please tell me."

"She is a Muggle, master. She feels a bit desperate, like someone anxious to do the right thing. Some moments ago, she was still a bit fearful, but she has calmed down. She wants to believe, only she doesn't dare to believe."

"Thank you, Nagini."

Harry turned to the woman whose lips no longer twisted, whose eyes had grown considerably during this short exchange. "Shall I quote literally?"

"Er - yes."

He did, thereby cutting a severe blow into her view of things, but she was still a sergeant of the Israeli Army, famous for their toughness.

"How ... how does she do it? How can you talk with her?"

"That's a longer story, sergeant, But if that's what is needed to make you close the place, I'm ready to tell you."

For a second, Harry thought he had a deal. Then the woman shook her head.

"No way. I can't close the castle. I just don't have the authority. They'd ..." She snorted. "I can see it just before my eyes - me coming along, telling them I closed the castle because there was someone with a snake, yes, and a little girl - " She started to giggle.

"Then tell me who is it that can close the place."

The sergeant stopped and stared at Harry as though awaking from a dream. "It's run by the Tourist Office, which is run by the Tourist Department, which belongs to the Ministry of Public Relations - if all of them would believe you, then maybe in a few months ..."

Harry started to regret not having accepted Urion's offer.

"Mister, this is Israel - five million people, which means on a good day, if people can make up their mind, you'll find five million opinions how things should be run, only we hadn't a good day recently - "

"Sergeant, please!" Harry pointed at Urion. "The colonel offered to occupy the castle with his warriors and lock out all wizards - but I didn't consider it senseful to save a few wizard lives by letting Goblins and Israeli kill each other."

The woman nodded. "Yes, you got that right. It's the only idea I can imagine which is still worse than climbing up the ladder of Jewish authorities."

"Thank you, sergeant; that clears the issue."

"What - "

Harry had his wand already out and pointed it at the small crane. "Sandy, watch."

A tiny ball erupted from the tip. It buzzed through the air and crashed through the windowpane into the small control cabin, where it exploded with a loud bang, sending splinters in all directions. Harry aimed lower and sent a second ball of nitroglycerine to the cable drum. This crane wasn't going to haul down another person soon.

Just when the first explosion faded, things around him started to develop.

The sergeant brought her eyes off the rumpled piece of Muggle technology. With a short twist of her shoulder, simultaneously pulling the gun-strap, she sent the sub-machine gun off her back, flying in a half-arc toward her other hand.

Before the gun could reach its destination, it was stopped by Urion, whose long fingers closed around the shaft, not pulling further, just holding, his eyes telling the woman this wasn't going to happen. The Goblin's movement had looked like an integral part of what had been started with the twisting of her shoulders.

For an instant, the sergeant glared at the Goblin colonel, her eyes telling him to go to hell. Before either of them had time for a remark, a brrraap could be heard from the jeep's location, and another sound from the wall as if several woodpeckers had found the stones worth a try, all of them at the same time.

"Oh, shit!"

The sergeant dropped the wrengling contest with the Goblin. While Harry, Tony, and Bill were busy seeking cover, she sprinted through the portal, an angry fist raising into the air.

"Hey, you - "

She coughed, bent over like kicked into the stomach, and crumpled down on the ground in slow motion.

And only now, Harry's mind registered what he'd heard at the same time - the second brrraap from below, and the whining sound of some other bullets coming through the portal.

* * *

Laila Belezikijan, sergeant in the Israeli Army but currently very much out of combat, felt consciousness return to her mind. She was pretty sure she wasn't going to like the state in which she would find herself, and right - as awareness kicked in, a terrible pain from her belly started draining every other emotion.

But the pain hardly found time to make itself heard when it already faded, as though a thick-panelled door had been closed to cut out the frantic noises from a crowded market, creating quietness inside, and the knowledge of agitation somewhere beyond these thick walls.

"Hold still!"

Opening her eyes, Laila decided this command had been aimed at her, because there was a young woman who gently pushed her arm down, a clear signal not to move.

Now the woman said, "I don't like to strap my patients, particularly not if they're fully awake. Please keep still, because I'm going to do a bit of delicate work with your interior ... And relax - don't tense your stomach. Do you feel pain?"

"Er - no. Just for an instant, but it's gone."

"Right, and that's how it'll stay for the next minutes. So you don't have to expect stabs or piercing or anything, that's why you can relax your muscles. Right now they feel as hard as wood, but I can't use that. You can talk, but please don't laugh."

Which of course, for a moment, almost made her so.

Trained to look first and ask then, or maybe to look first, shoot then, and ask afterwards, Laila let her eyes wander around as much as she could - lying on a table or plank bed, barely padded.

Was this an OP?

If so, then for sure it was the weirdest she'd ever seen. Not that she had seen that many, more in TV than in reality because she had never caught a bullet before, and combat troops preferred to stay out of hospitals.

But she'd caught one, hadn't she?

Oh yes, she had. Chaim, this asshole of a trigger-happy motherfucker, had been so decent to shoot before even looking, and it had hit her in the stomach. This, of all possibilities. They said you would recognize this kind of hit instantly, without even looking, and they'd been right. But this thick door kept it outside.

"By the way," said the woman, "the rough part's already over. We took out the bullet a minute ago. We kept you stupefied until we had it out - would have been a bit hard to keep you calm on that."

This young woman hardly looked like a surgeon. White coat over clothes looking perfectly normal, none of the green, baggy full-body suit you knew so well from the TV soaps. No surgical mask either, not even gloves - my God, where ...

"Where am I?"

"This is Hogwarts, the wizard school of England, and we're here in the medical wing - hell of a wing, that is." The woman grinned. "My name's Hermione Krum, I'm the Potions witch here, but I have extended a bit - I mean, I know what I'm doing, no need to get your knickers in a twist."

Laila Belezikijan realized that this advice could be taken almost literally - her own body was lacking all the surgical clothes and fabrics too, she was just lying there in her underwear - panties and bra, with a thin blanket covering her to the hips. It wasn't cold, and her combat dress had to be a bloody mess - still, somehow it felt a bit disquieting how casually this woman seemed to go about her work.

Because this work had to do with Laila's belly.

Then she recognized the needle in her arm, and the infusion bottle hanging above, and a pressure at her upper arm, leading to a monitor which was the first piece of equipment that looked familiar, beeping, showing green digits. And there was a young man behind that woman, working at a table.

He looked like a student, and the woman didn't look a day older than Laila herself. For her, this was no reason to worry - in Israel, you got used to seeing young people at work. You got likewise used to seeing young people die.

---

The woman held something that looked like a thin hose. "I'm going to play a bit inside your stomach. There's a mini camera on top - I'd be grateful if you don't twist, and I promise you it won't hurt."

That's what they always said, right before ...

With some effort, Laila Belezikijan kept steady, watching how the hose moved inside her. To her surprise, the woman was right - the touch felt gentler than a peeking finger.

But how could she feel it? How had she been anaesthesized? "What kind of anaesthetics do you use?"

The woman smiled. "The best - something money can't buy. It's called Harry Potter."

Just then, Laila became aware that two hands were lying on her shoulders, close to her throat, very lightly, unnoticed before because they had of course the same temperature as her own skin.

She twitched involuntarily.

As if that door had been opened for a short instant, a light wave of pain rushed through her. At the same time, the woman, her eyes not leaving a second monitor, said, "Shhht - not moving, please. This picture of your inside is difficult enough."

"What - what's he doing?"

The woman - whats-her-name, Hermione? - walked to a table and came back with a steel mirror. She held it before Laila's face, keeping the angle so that Laila could see the scene behind her head.

It was the young man from the castle - without snake, without daughter, sitting calmly, eyes closed. And the hands on her shoulders were his.

"Do you recognize him? Okay, that's Harry, he's my anaesthesist in this operation. I don't like my patients unconscious, and local anaesthetics are clumsy and insufficient, and besides - for what I'm going to do, I want your bowels to cooperate. That's why I asked him."

"But what's he doing??"

"He's blocking the pain - as simple as that. He does it with his mind, to your mind, and all your other organs can go nicely about their business." Seeing Laila's alarmed face, the woman sat down and touched her hands. "It's - say, do you have a name?"

"Belezikijan. Laila Belezikijan."

"Okay, Laila - I'm Hermione, and over there that's my assistant Clemens, and behind you that's Harry. We're all Magicals, and what we're doing here is ordinary wizard work. Well, okay, Harry's a bit special, you won't find many wizards who can do his trick - actually, you won't find that many Potions witches who can do my trick either, but it beats a Muggle surgery any time, because if you hold still for a few minutes, the wound channel will be repaired."

"A few minutes?"

"Yes, that's the advantage of magical surgery. The bullet went through your liver, but had the grace not to damage too much of your bowels. And it stuck inside, so there's no exit wound."

Liver??

Hermione saw her glance. "Relax - repairing a liver is the easiest part. If we had to close holes in ten of your intestines, it would have been harder ... All right, now, if you'll be a good girl and lie quite still, I can start fixing you. I'll comment on it, for Clemens as much as for yourself, so you know what's taking place. Okay?"

Laila nodded, surprised about her own calmness. This thick door seemed to cut out panic as well.

---

The witch was busy with the hose again, moving it slightly up and down. "What I'm doing now is to repair each damaged layer bottom-up, or inside-out. This way, I can check the result one layer after the other, and we need only marginal quantities ... And this thing here's a great help, because you can watch what's going on ... By the way, it's Muggle technology through and through, Laila, so you see, we aren't narrow-minded here. Clemens, the fibre stuff, please."

During the next minutes, Laila watched how the doctor witch and her assistant sent some fluids inside her, little more than drops each time, using another hose, then watching with the bodyscope how inside herself holes closed, to start with the next layer. She could watch the bodyscope display on the monitor herself, only it didn't tell her a great deal.

"Okay, so much for your food machinery. Now comes your liver, and then we can finish with your muscles and your connective tissue. For what I can see, you need your liver intact, huh?"

Which seemed to be a decent hint at her booze consumption.

Laila didn't bother to blush; for her profession, there were worse risks than that. "What kind of stuff can repair a liver?"

The witch grinned. "A bit of this, and a bit of that - the exact recipe is the reason why my salary as a teacher here is just pocket money. The major agens is dragon blood - so much I can tell you without revealing a secret, because I know that Clemens has figured it out already." She turned to her assistant, who grinned back.

Dragon blood??

Laila decided not to ask for more details; she wasn't interested in throwing up here on that table. In contrast, the policy of telling people only what they'd figured out already by themselves sounded familiar to her; it was exactly the method used by all armies of the world.

"Yeah, here we go - it's like new. Laila, in half an hour or so, you can test it with a stiff brandy, or whatever's the poison of your choice."

"Brandy sounds okay."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it? And now for the rest, so your next push-ups won't hurt - or any other gymnastics, for that matter ..."

The witches' grin left little doubt what kind of gymnastics she was talking about, while Laila could see how a faint blush crossed the young man's face. All the time, he had looked at her like any assistant doctor, but suddenly he seemed to have trouble glancing in her direction.

Which reminded Laila that her bra wasn't exactly the army model.

"So far, so good. Look here."

The witch held the mirror over Laila's stomach so she could check the wound - which no longer was a wound, just a scar, although still bright red and deep, very much like a gunshot wound after three months healing.

"Please touch it ... Press a bit ... How does it feel?"

"Pretty good. I mean, almost normal, I can hardly believe - "

"Yeah, it's magic, isn't it?" The witch moved behind her and said, "Harry?"

It felt as though the door was opening again, only now the noise from the market had faded. Still, it brought in a rush of coldness, and suddenly things felt a bit rougher than before.

---

She heard a movement, then this Harry stepped around, looked at her, and smiled.

"Hello, sergeant. I'm glad Hermione could fix you."

"Er - hello, Harry. Call me Laila."

"Okay, Laila. I'm sorry for what happened. It was my mistake; I should have warned you in advance - "

"Forget it - it was Chaim, and when I'm done with him, he can use his ears for signal rockets, believe me."

The witch stepped in. "We're not quite done yet. Harry, can you get rid of this scar?"

He looked at her belly. "Yes, I think so."

Once more Laila felt alarmed. "What are you going to do?"

The witch answered before he could. "Harry's our specialist for beauty surgery - scars and bruises. Unless you think a gunshot scar decorates you better than a decent bikini figure, he'll make it disappear."

Laila stared at the beauty surgeon's forehead, where an oddly shaped scar was quite prominently visible.

He recognized it and smiled. "Don't worry - as you know, the doctor's health is always the worst." Looking at her own scar again, he said, "It's a bit deep - I think I'll get me some help."

"From whom?"

"You've seen her." He reached for his mobile, and pressed a button, however without holding the piece to his ear. A moment later, Laila heard a girl's voice as if coming out of hi-fi speakers. "Yes, Harry?"

"Rahewa, can you come with Sandy to Hermione's rooms? There's a scar that needs treatment."

"Okay. Comin'."

Laila looked at him. "Your daughter?"

"Yes. Do you remember what I told you about her power? With her help, it'll take just a few minutes."

"Ah, yes, of course."

Of course??

Moments later, the door opened, and a teenager stepped in, the girl on her arm.

"Here comes the little dragon with the big - "

The teenager's glance had fallen on this young assistant, and the effect was, in a way, more dramatical than anything Laila had seen in this room. The voice stopped like cut, while a deep colouring was creeping up the teenager's throat and onto her cheeks.

Glancing over to the young man, Laila could see him suffer similar symptoms.

Then the big girl had delivered the small girl and was in a hurry to leave.

Looking up, Laila's eyes met those of Harry. She said, "There's fever, and there's fever, huh?"

He smiled. "Definitely so, except sometimes the cure's simpler - from some perspective, that is."

She laughed. "Oh yes."

He sat down, the girl in his lap. "Sandy, this is Laila."

Two big eyes were staring at her. She could recognize some of the father's features in the girl's face, and it would certainly be interesting to meet the mother.

"Lai-la."

"Hello, Sandy. Harry says you two can heal my scar."

The girl looked at her, then - following Harry's pointing hand - at her scar. Then she nodded. "Heal Laila."

Two small hands came to rest on her belly. Two bigger hands followed. Next moment, Laila felt something like an inaudible hum, quite a pleasant feeling, almost arousing.

The two faces at her side were calm, unmoving, their eyes closed. Studying them, Laila felt as though watching an optical illusion - one moment, they looked different, next second, they seemed like a smaller and a bigger casting from the same mould.

Some minutes later, Harry's eyes opened a split second before the girl followed. He examined her belly, then bent down to his daughter's ear.

"It's gone, Sandy. Look - the scar's gone, and you did it together with me."

For an instant, Laila felt as if standing in the Negev desert, a gust of the chamsin blowing into her face. Then it was gone, only the beaming face of the little girl was left. "Laila healed!"

* * *

Guest suites were quite convenient facilities, in particular if there was more than one sub-suite around a central room, where people could meet. In one of the bathrooms, Harry helped Sandy use the toilet before he did the same himself - feeling grateful that Sandy, for a while already, had accepted the strangely limited excitement of other people about her interest in their own shit.

In another bathroom, Laila was showering. Her blood-soaked combat dress had already been cleaned before; now the rest of her clothes was going through the express-order cleaning machinery of the house-elves. For this purpose, Harry had shown Laila how to use the small lift and had introduced her to Arbogast, the servant picture.

Done with their bladder and bowel business, Harry and his daughter marched into the central room, where Nagini lay waiting. Having found seats on the table, they started negotiating with Arbogast about rice pudding and turkey.

Rice pudding - certainly, sir. Turkey? Arbogast was afraid to have none and offered duck instead.

"China Duck," caroled Sandra. She had taken Arbogast as the most natural thing from the first moment.

"It's Scottish duck, Missy. Would this be acceptable?"

Sandra looked at her father. When Harry signaled that this was indeed acceptable, the girl nodded graciously.

"Very well, Missy. What may I offer to you, sir?"

Harry, who had been given carte blanche by Laila - "Whatever, and lots of that" - decided to join his daughter with the duck while opting for a different taste in the rice, plus a large bowl of salad.

A moment later, Laila appeared in a bathrobe and walked to the lift, her face revealing low expectancy when she peeked inside. But much to her surprise, the flimsy pieces were back, cleaned and ironed - only the bullet hole in her undershirt was still present, as Harry learned a few minutes later.

She disappeared in her room and returned quickly, fully dressed. Harry wondered whether a female sergeant would be equally quick with a cocktail dress, doubted it very much, however decided not to investigate the issue further. They weren't short of conversation topics anyway, not at all.

Laila sat down opposite Harry, who had Sandra in his lap due to lack of a high chair. Next moment, plates, bowls, and dishes appeared. While Sandra started eating at once, Laila needed a second to gasp.

"Today told me a few things, Harry. One of them is, I'm definitely born into the wrong race. If I didn't get the message already watching your tricks, this room here makes it clear ... A servant picture, really."

"Yes, I know. On the other hand, when I was a student here, we missed items as simple as a copier. And a computer? Nobody knew what that meant. Things are balancing out, although I have to admit that so far the Magicals had the better deal."

Laila wasn't in the mood for philosophy. She was in the mood for food and diminished the pile on her plate with great energy. Between bites, she sent an appreciating smile to Sandra, who did much the same. Watching more closely, Laila said, "She doesn't spill a single grain of rice. Strange, somehow I thought, a girl with such powers must be chaotic in matters of daily life."

Harry's voice resonated with pride. "Sandy hates imperfection."

"Yeah, obviously."

"That's why she doesn't use a fork. It only looks as if. You could take it away, the bites would move just the same."

Laila looked respectful. "I don't think I'd like to take her fork away. I wouldn't like to mess with her at all, but with her food? No thanks."

Good instincts she had, like every sergeant. Harry bent down. "Sandy, may I have your fork for a moment?"

The girl nodded and offered the instrument with her right hand while continuing to move nice little morsels of rice or duck into her mouth, and to chew them.

Laila looked awestruck. "Yeah ... Quite an ordinary witch girl, by all means."

Sandra didn't bother with a response. She was eating.

---

After some more bites, the woman seemed to remember that the day hadn't been quite ordinary either. "Harry, please tell me what happened after I caught the bullet."

"Well, not much, in a way. The first seconds were a bit tricky because Urion - the Goblin - felt tempted to grab your gun and return the fire, but he thought better of it just in time. And your comrade - I think he recognized you the moment you fell down; at any rate, he stopped shooting. I wasn't sure, though, so I disarmed him and - "

"Disarmed him? How?"

"It's a spell, the disarming spell. Originally it's used to take a wand out of someone's hand, but it works with guns, too."

"Harry, you might teach me that some time ... Okay, please go ahead."

"I think I could have taken his gun with my bare hands. He was so worried, the poor guy ..."

Laila snorted.

"... and to be honest, you didn't look well there, not a bit, actually: heavy bleeding, and quite dark. So I decided to take you and come here to Hogwarts, which for me was the fasted way of getting help ... That's it, basically."

"Ahh - not so quickly. How did you take me?"

"You know what apparating is? Well, apparating someone else works too, if you know how it's done. It's called summoning. When I tried it with my friend Tony - that's the one who held Nagini - he was sick and had to - erm, reverse eating - "

Laila grinned. "Don't confuse me with a woman, Harry - I'm a sergeant."

Harry let the remark fade unreplied; even under the combat dress, there was little doubt because of two prominent arguments, not to mention the picture of her at the surgery table.

"Whatever - I stunned you first to save you from the pain, and it worked; all you were losing was blood. Then Hermione took over, and - well, you should know more about the surgery than I do."

Laila glanced at him. "How is it to anaesthesize someone? Are you in a trance then?"

"Yeah, something like that. You're not aware of what's happening around. It's a kind of conversation, somehow, like talking with a spirit."

"What did my spirit say?" The woman looked a bit self-conscious.

Harry smiled. "Nothing specific - no, really, it wasn't a big deal, I mean you weren't dying or so, just pained. It's ... like small talk, in a way, as if you'd say, 'Can I fetch you another drink, your glass is empty' - something like that."

"You're lying shamelessly, but you do it in a nice way."

"No, I'm not - besides, Nagini would hiss if anyone in this room would be lying ..."

The woman nodded, accepting this fact much easier than his description.

"... yes, of course it's a bit different. You're not really talking, but it's more than just thinking because it's really a communication, and in words it would be something like, 'You're suffering, let me help you,' something like that. But it's nothing, compared to someone who's about to die; then you really have to argue."

"Argue?" Reconsidering Harry's words, Laila asked, "You've done that, huh?"

"Yes - once, in the first weeks of fighting between Magicals and Muggles."

"And? Who won?"

Harry beamed. "She's quite alive - one of the teachers here."

"While on the subject of teachers - this Hermione, is she a plain ordinary witch like you're a plain ordinary wizard, with a plain ordinary daughter and - "

"No, she isn't. Hermione's one of the two leading Potions witches in the world. Being one of two would satisfy most people, but for her this kind of limited competiton is the toughest challenge she can imagine."

Laila watched Harry's devious grin. "You know her well, don't you?"

"Oh sure - we were classmates, and we're friends since the first year here at Hogwarts. Aside from her job here, Hermione's a freelance contractor for Groucho Biochemicals - actually, her closest competitor is a regular employee of that company."

"Groucho ... I've heard that name." The woman looked up. "And what's your connection with Groucho?"

"The company was founded by three witches from this school. One of them is my wife."

"Ahh ..." Laila grinned. "One big little cosy connection, huh?"

---

Before Harry could answer, there was a knock at the door. He went over to open and found a well-known face smiling at him.

"Hi, Almyra. Come in."

Returning to the table, Harry introduced, "Laila, this is Almyra Lupin, my sister in spirit. Al, this is Laila Belezikijan, sergeant in the Israeli Army."

The sergeant inspected the newcomer with open curiosity. "Hi - call me Laila, I wonder how Harry managed with my family name." She turned to him. "Say, your brother Bill there, and your sister here, how come they all look so much like you?"

Almyra answered for him. "Harry is a collector in family pieces, so to speak - but this little dragon here's the first genuine product."

"And what about his own?"

"He didn't tell you, did he?"

"No - we were too busy shooting each other, maybe that's why."

Almyra gave her a broad grin. "That's unusual; normally Harry prefers to touch his women personally - "

"Thanks a lot, Al." Harry glared at her.

"Why - it's true. Look, Nagini isn't hissing."

Almyra turned to the other woman. "Harry's story starts with the day when his parents were killed. He was one year then, and right after that, the killer made his biggest mistake ever: he tried to kill Harry."

The sergeant nodded. "Yes, that explains a lot."

Did it?

Harry said, "That's enough biography, Al. Is there any special reason for your coming?"

Almyra glanced at Nagini. "I guess I better keep to the truth, so the answer is no, it was just female curiosity."

Laila laughed.

Harry didn't. "Your own, or someone else's?"

It was Sandra who saved Almyra from answering. "Shit!"

"Then up we go." The air popped into the space that had been filled by the Potter-Potter gang.

When Harry returned, two young women smiled at him knowingly. From what he could guess, and sense, they'd used the short time for exchanging a maximum of information.

Almyra said, "I told Laila how I became your first patient."

Laila asked, "Did you ever treat a male patient?"

He sat down. "Sure - Snape, for instance, another teacher here, and also for a scar."

Almyra looked at her fellow gossiper. "But that's an exception - Harry has clear preferences."

They both giggled.

With little success, Harry tried to look upset while the two women exchanged some more remarks, having much fun at his cost. He liked Almyra too much, just couldn't be angry with her, and he felt an obligation to the other woman who had taken a bullet for which he kept himself halfway responsible.

---

Then he felt Sandra fall asleep and arranged her more comfortably in his lap. Seeing that, Almyra asked, "Shall I take her with me, Harry?" Her grin was quite teasing.

"No thanks. She's lying well where she is."

Almyra turned to the sergeant. "Doesn't mean anything - Sandy would never rat out on him."

Harry could feel that his sister's joking was a bit too much for the sergeant, probably for the usual reason, meaning it wasn't far-fetched enough. So he said, "Give it a rest, Al; there are some serious topics too." Then he turned to Laila, who seemed grateful for the change.

"Your comrade should know where you are, that we didn't kidnap you. Bill promised me to explain that to him, because I was a bit in a hurry - "

The woman nodded. "I appreciate this hurry, I really do."

"Yes, I can imagine. Hermione suggested that you stay overnight here. She doesn't know details about the army drill, nor do I, but she'd prefer if you don't stress the new tissue too much in the first hours." Harry extracted a phony from his pocket. "Here - you can contact your unit, it works like a mobile, except that it's voice-controlled. Please keep it."

"Really?" The woman inspected the small device. "It's a phony, isn't it? Aren't they very expensive?"

Almyra said, "Only if you have to pay for them. Look at the backside - see the manufacturer plate?"

The sergeant beamed. "That's great! Thanks."

"Like all good presents, it comes for quite selfish reasons." Harry pointed at the last short cut button in the lower row. "Here, that's a direct contact to mine, and mine has a short cut to yours. I hope we can stay in touch as long as this story is running."

The woman looked at him. "Definitely, Harry. I'm somewhat limited, but sergeants are quite inventive."

"Thank you, Laila, I appreciate that. For the damage - please tell those people that we'll compensate them for the cost, and the loss of income, as long as they can keep it shut for a few days - the well, I mean, walking along elsewhere's probably not contagious for a wizard."

"I'll manage, believe me - it's not as if I couldn't play with explosives by myself." The sergeant grinned. "Just one more question: how can I travel back?"

"If you can wait till afternoon, when it's daytime in California, I'll come along and give you a lift" - Harry smiled, seeing her face - "not summoning, no - a portkey, because it's puke-safe. If you want to travel earlier, or still this evening - "

"For God's sake, no! This is luxury pure what I get here, and I guess I've found someone who'll answer me some more questions." One woman looked at the other, finding a nod. "If the army gets me back one day after a shot through the liver, they have no reason to complain, what do you think?"

Harry didn't know.

Suddenly the sergeant twitched. "I just thought - Harry, would this Hermione sign me a paper?"

"Sure - why?"

"Well ..." Laila looked embarrassed. "I just realized, aside from this little hole in my dress, I have no proof whatsoever that I've been shot."